A Letter to Emily
by fragrantlily90
Summary: Just an idea I'm floating. Was going to be be a one shot. Emily cheats. Naomi finds out. Shit? Meet fan. It's sort of growing...and growing. Sorry!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there. This one is a bit off the wall. Not part of my 'Dirty Girl' thing at all, although parts of it refer to something very dirty nonetheless. I'm not quite sure how this is going to go, either from my end, or the way it will be received by you guys. To cut to the chase, its a simple one shot, albeit in two parts (?), framed as a letter from Naomi to Emily. Post the 'shed' speech and way before the abomination called Fire, it deals with infidelity.**

 **But not Naomi's infidelity with Sophia. To understand the context of this story, you actually have to go and read another writers work (don't worry, its only 4/5 chapters I think). The story is called 'Loves me Not' and its by a writer called _Guinevere McAdam_. Suffice it to say its a real storming piece of work, well written and heart stopping in places. Mainly because of the characters. **

**Cook and Emily.**

 **Yeah, you heard that right. Definitely not one of my ships and probably not yours either. You have to read it though, to make sense of this. Now the writer may be annoyed that I've stolen her work to feed off, I don't know. It's a first for me, but the story was so powerful, I had to do something about the way it stuck in my head. I've tried writing to her, asking her to update. But like a lot of awesome authors, she's left the fandom. It's well over a year now since the story was updated. And its been bugging me. Mainly because it was such a powerful bit of work, I couldn't get it out of my head. Cook and Emily, I hear you say...naaah. Well, that was my reaction too, but the story is as hot as the surface of Mercury and believable too. Basically, without spoiling the plot, Naomi is away for the weekend. Emily is bored and lonely. Cook shows up with cash and MDMA. And we know what MDMA does to Emily's libido. don't we?**

 **Mix in a noisy club and Cook's never ending quest to get his dick damp? Result, mayhem.**

 **If you think it is a goer, I'll write more. As I said, this story is supposed to be a long letter from Naomi to Emily, after the shit hits the fan, which again without spoiling, it always was going to. Emily is crap with secrets. Even when she was 'not' going out with Mandy, she didn't have the nous to go somewhere she couldn't bump into one of the gang. Luckily it was JJ, who as we know, had already known Emily carnally, albeit for a pity shag. Secrets and lies, huh?**

 **But anyway, I feel compelled to write this letter to Emily. We've all been through breakups, heartache. Although I hope I never have to suffer something like this. Naomily is probably the best love story ever written, testament the masses of stories on here. But sometimes the dice fall against you. I have no idea, and never want to have, how I would face the loss of someone like Emily Fitch. The love they had was Homeric in scope and power. Two people who are like twin planets, circling together, never to be separated. We all ache for them to make it.**

 **But Cook and Emily?**

 **Jesus, the boy knows how to spoil a party. Shagging one half of the most totemic lesbian couples in the known universe. Oh, and the other party just happens to be your best friend. Shit.**

 **Anyway, read the story (not mine, hers) and let me know if you think its worth pursuing? I have the story written in my head. It's not a happy ride. Well, it wouldn't be, would it? I just think this would be how Naomi would play it, after blasting Emily verbally and storming out. Thoughts on a page are more powerful than spoken words. Because you can re read them and agonise over the feelings behind them. Love letters work like that, but break up letters? Even more so, I think.**

 **Enough rambling I think. I've started the letter below. Just a teaser few lines. The rest is in my head.**

 _Letter to Emily_

Emily.

I take it you're home now. In any case, I've addressed this to Katies place to make sure you get it. Your things are being delivered back to you tomorrow. Your clothes and personal things in bags and stuff. I hope you understand I can't be there for you to collect them from our old place.

I want to say a few things to you in this letter I couldn't to your face. Too painful and to be honest, I'm not sure I could stop crying long enough. You know what a pedant I am, everything in it's place? Well, this is my way of getting it all out, telling you how I feel, without missing anything out. Good and bad. Mostly bad.

You missed Freddies waking up by the way. I understand why. Everyone was happy about that.

Right, well. Here goes.

I miss you. More than I can ever say. I miss your face, your smile and your voice. I miss the way you light up the room when you come into it. I miss the way I used to lie in bed watching you sleep in the mornings before you woke. I miss everything about you. Everything.

Except what you and Cook did.

You fucked my best mate. The love of my life fucked my best mate and brought my whole world tumbling down. I haven't just lost you, I've lost him too. The bastard.

You fucked him and nothing you could ever do or say will make it right, or fix it. That's the truth. It tears at me to see it written down, but there it is. We're finished. End of.

There, I've stopped crying now for a bit, so I'll carry on.

XXX

 **Rest to come?**


	2. Chapter 2

**OK, so I knew this wouldn't be everyone's cup of tea, what with the Cook Emily thing (even though I'm only going to refer to the dirty deed in Naomi's retrospective heartache, but it was mostly written, so if anyone is still aboard, here it is. The whole letter.**

 _Letter to Emily_

Emily.

I take it you're home now. In any case, I've addressed this to Katies place to make sure you get it. Your things are being delivered back to you later. Your clothes and personal things in bags and stuff. I hope you understand I can't be here for you to collect them from our old place.

I want to say a few things to you in this letter I couldn't to your face. Too painful and to be honest, I'm not sure I could stop crying long enough. You know what a pedant I am, everything in it's place? Well, this is my way of getting it all out, telling you how I feel, without missing anything out. Good and bad. Mostly bad.

You missed Freddies waking up by the way. I understand why. Everyone was happy about that. Him waking up that is.

Right, well. Here goes.

I miss you. More than I can ever say. I miss your face, your smile and your voice. I miss the way you light up the room when you come into it. I miss the way I used to lie in bed watching you sleep in the mornings before you woke. I miss everything about you. Everything.

Except what you and Cook did.

You fucked my best mate Emily. The love of my life fucked my best mate and brought my whole world tumbling down. I haven't just lost you, I've lost him too. The bastard.

You fucked him and nothing you could ever do or say will make it right, or fix it. That's the truth. It tears at me to see it written down, but there it is. We're finished. End of.

I'm going to stop for a minute, my eyes are blurry.

There, I've stopped crying now for a bit, so I'll carry on.

I suppose I should start at the beginning, even though I know it will cause you more pain. I might ramble a bit, but you know how I like to ramble, specially when I'm upset.

Well, I'm definitely upset.

Meeting you, wanting you, loving you were the single biggest and most important series of events in my life. I denied it for years, pushed you away, told anyone who would listen I was straight. But then you know all this. I had to summon up all my meagre courage to tell you in Freddies shed. I thought that was hard enough.

Apparently not.

You changed me, changed my attitude, changed my personality. Until now, I thought for the better.

Apparently not.

When I gave in to my feelings and let you love me, let you into my heart, I honestly thought I would burst with happiness. Then I went and bollocksed it up by screwing a poor girl who ended up killing herself over me. I don't think there will ever be a day when I don't feel guilt and remorse over that. Not just her death, which will haunt me forever, but for that moment on the car park roof, when you told me we were over. I thought at that moment I could never feel any worse.

Apparently not.

You punished me for months. Ignoring me, belittling me, showing contempt for anything I said or did. I put up with it, even in a sick way welcomed it. Because I saw, just once or twice in your sad eyes a chance we might still make it.

Even when you kissed that girl Sarah at that horrible barbecue, I knew by the way you broke down when I said your name that you still loved me. You wanted to punish me for betraying you and I understood that.

Even when you had that relationship with Mandy. Even though I knew you were way more than friends. JJ never could keep his mouth shut, could he? I even brushed aside the knowledge that you could hardly be keeping her as a pretend girlfriend without putting out a little. OK, I believe even now, that you didn't actually sleep with her, not in the full sense. But come on Em, no one is going to hang on forever with just an occasional goodnight kiss and hand holding, are they? You two made out. I know you when you're drunk and stoned (and I'm sure Cook has a whole new fantasy section in his sick mind about your MDMA mood) You like to fuck. I thought you liked to fuck me, your actual girlfriend, most of all.

Apparently not.

But I even pushed my fears about Mandy to the back of my mind because I thought we had a chance. I thought you might forgive me and take me back.

Well, you did and up to a few days ago, I thought letting you inside, inside my heart was still the best thing I have ever done. You changed my world Emily Fitch and now I can never go back to what I was. Or maybe that's not true. Maybe what we had was a blissful interlude, designed to torment me with what I could have, just to have it snatched away at the last minute. Maybe being unhappy is my future.

I was ready to follow you anywhere. Put my Uni plans on hold, alter my whole life plan. Because, after all my plotting, it turned out my life plan consisted of two words. Emily Fitch.

I have no idea or comprehension why you thought fucking Cook multiple times was a good thing. It makes that little confession you made at Panda's pyjama party sound even hollower. "You're gay" I said and for the first time, you said yes.

That turned out to be a crock of shit, didn't it?

The two times you cheat (and I know shagging JJ wasn't actually cheating, despite the fact that it felt exactly like it to me) it was with a guy. Maybe you're not as gay as we both thought you were. Maybe you and your lovely sister are more alike than we all believed. Screwing JJ I could blank out eventually. He's a nice guy and I believe you when you say you were doing it as a favour, much as it hurt to think about you with him. But Cook?

And before you think what I know you're thinking right now, yes I did snog Cook myself. It was cruel and stupid of me, but I did. I thought, after we'd been together that first time, I'd try one last time to screw the gay out of me. Well, I couldn't go through with it. A few kisses and some buttons torn off before I stopped him. Stopped myself. He wasn't right. Not then, not now. He just wasn't you.

I suppose as this is the last time we will communicate in any way, I should make another confession. I kissed Cook again. When you were punishing me with Mandy and I felt as low as I could get. Not that sort of a kiss. No passion. We were sitting on the green in front of the house. It must have been 6 am or something, sun was coming up. He did his usual thing, said he'd never get to bone me and I said no, I love someone. He kissed me as a friend. It was the first tender gesture anyone had shown me for weeks, maybe months. I let him. There, confession over. There are no more to reveal.

But this letter isn't really about me now. It's about love lost.

I could have accepted (just) the idea that you got pissed up, took some of Cook's powder and he used that boyish charm to get your knickers down in some club toilet. I would have hated it, spent months probably hating you for it. But if it was payback for my loveless screw with Sophia Moore, I would have eventually forgiven you and maybe him (although I might have had to smack him about quite a lot).

But it wasn't like that Emily, was it? You screwed him in my house, our house. You said a few times. Jesus, I nearly went mad imagining him with his hands on you once, let alone lots of times. What, wasn't the first time enough? I hear he's a great cocksman, maybe you got a taste for it after the first time. I just hope you didn't do it in our bed. I've not been able to sleep in it since I got back anyway. Trouble, is, I don't know where else you might have done it with him. I ended up pulling the sleeping bag out of the stair cupboard and kipping on the living room floor. I'm guessing the couch and the kitchen table are out for me too now, the shower?

Well Em, I hope he was good at it, because he's your best hope now. Effy tells me Cook thinks he's in love with you. Maybe you could run off with him, like she did, although that didn't end too well for either of them if I remember. Harsh? Yeah, sorry, I suppose that was. But then, now you're confirmed as bisexual, it could be a goer. Isn't it a twist. All that time with me protesting my straightness. Now you're the straight one and I've finally admitted I'm gay. Even have a lesbian fling on the side to prove it wasn't just a one off. Life really IS a bitch, huh?

Anyway, life now is pretty shit for me at the moment, so excuse me if I don't spend too much time worrying about your future love plans.

By the time you open this letter, I'll be on a train to London. Big enough to lose myself in. I can't stay in Bristol another day. Now Freddie is recovering, there is nothing left for me now. Mum wrote to say she is staying in Thailand after all. So I've given the keys to an estate agent. Someone else will move into 'our' house. Replace our memories with theirs. I wish them more luck than it brought me.

You should have all your stuff now too. I told the taxi driver to put the bags in the garage if there isn't anyone home. I tipped him a tenner, but you can have that on me. A last gift.

I kept one thing. That photo we got the Aussie guy in Mexico City to take of us, the one where you have your arm round my waist, looking up at me. I can't look at it just yet, it makes me cry for an hour, but I've put it inside my copy of Catcher in the Rye. Safe. Maybe in 6 months, a year, I will be able to look at it again and smile.

Remember the good times.

Well, that's all I have to say Em. I still miss you every minute, but I have to be strong now. I could say I hope you and Cook make a go of it, but I'd be lying. Sooner or later the plod will catch up with him. If I were you, I'd get used to prison visiting. OK, I know that's cruel, but excusable? I've just lost my best friend and the girl I would have died for.

Goodbye then Emily Fitch.

Naomi x


	3. Chapter 3

**This is probably something I shouldn't do. I intended the _Letter_ _T_ _o Emily_ thing to be a one/two shot, tragic and more of a homage to the excellent if painful ' _Loves_ _M_ _e Not_ ' by Guinevere McAdam than a fully fledged story. But as I'm sure many people have found before me, I can't leave this one alone. It's sort of taken on a life of its own. **

**I'm doubly unsure actually, because if _I_ was the Naomi in this tale (and the previous much better written original) I would find it almost impossible to forgive Emily's serial betrayal. Maybe that will end up being the final conclusion anyway, I'll see how it goes. But for better or worse (and I've stopped fishing now!) here goes. This bit will jump getting on for a year later and is from Emily's point of view.**

 **Oh, and apologies again to the original author who has unknowingly provided me with inspiration. Mistakes are very definitely mine along with the inevitable grammatical errors and piss poor plotting. Skins however remains a distant dream.**

 **On another subject, have you all watched Lily Loveless in the Musketeers on BBC recently? I think it's series 3, episode 7. She plays a French woman called Elodie. To say she is getting more gorgeous and better at acting every year is a total understatement. One word sums her up 'luminous'. Her beauty truly is outstanding. I watched her in awe. Seriously guys, you have to see this. OK, she plays a pregnant woman (surely only Kat is allowed to impregnate our Lily?) and she has a bit of a thing for one of the plumper musketeers, happily not consummated. But God in heaven, I fell in love with her all over again. And if God, Allah, Yahweh, Krishna or Buddah is listening...can I have her...please. I promise not to be selfish and not allow anyone else see her? Hahaha!**

Emily

"You did _WHAT_?"

I remember that phrase very well. Mostly because it got said to me about a million fucking times. By everyone I knew.

Katie however was on a mission, that first month after Naomi left, to make it her personal bitter mantra. I desperately needed support right then, much as I didn't deserve it. My twin sister, despite our chequered past, I did expect to come round a bit quicker than the rest of Bristol. I didn't need the person closest to me to be even more disgusted with what I'd done than I was myself. Or should I say _who_ I'd done.

Cook.

Jesus, if I was going to be unfaithful to the love of my life, I surely could have been a bit more imaginative about my chosen adulterant? The man whore of Bristol. Host to who knew how many previous treatable STD's in the recent past. An emotional disaster, a criminal and to cap it all, the best friend of my girlfriend.

Way to go Ems. Fuck it up royally why don't you.

Which makes it seem more flippant than I intend it to. Because it's not just Naomi who had her heart shattered. Mine is broken into pieces too.

I thought I couldn't get any lower than I did when I found out about Naomi's single infidelity with the dead girl. I wanted to die then, just fall asleep and not wake up. The pain was so deep, so visceral, I spent the first week throwing up everything I tried to eat or drink. I hated her, hated what she'd done so deeply I thought I could never, ever forgive her.

So I punished her. Not by walking away, but by just being there, in her face all the time. Every day, every night. I knew how much I was hurting her by being a total cunt to her in her own house. I spat insults her way, belittled her attempts to be nice to me, gave her long periods of frozen silence, and then...oh and then I found even better ways to punish her.

I went out most nights, got hammered on drink and any drugs I could beg or steal, came home wasted, then watched her crumble bit by bit in front of my eyes. Within a month she was a shadow of the Naomi I'd loved. She looked nearer to 40 than 17 by the time I'd finished with her.

Which, in an odd way made it even easier to torment her. Because the person who I humiliated daily and shoved around so carelessly wasn't the Naomi I'd fallen in love with. No more sharp edges, sarcasm and wit. Just a sad faced shell with pleading eyes and crumpled unwashed clothes.

Finally, still flushed with self righteous hate and contempt for her, I had an affair. Not a full on, shagging every night, love and promises thing, but it was an affair nevertheless.

Even if I pretended it wasn't.

I kissed Mandy hello when we went out like a lover not a friend. I kissed her drunk and sober at parties, clubs and in seedy backstreet pubs. I let her maul my body in toilets and alleys on the way home. We might not have done the actual deed itself by the time Naomi discovered our platonic friendship was anything but platonic, but it was a close run thing.

The night, or rather morning Naomi came up and saw her naked in bed with me, it was only my extreme drunkenness that had stopped my little fling turning into a full on sex. Mandy naked in our double bed, Naomi curled up, terminally stoned on the sofa next to Pandora downstairs, me drunk and horny upstairs. What could possibly go wrong?

If I hadn't passed out after clumsily stripping Mandy naked, I would have been a cheat then, not just now.

At least then I had a reason, slim as it was.

And it makes me deeply ashamed. Ashamed at all the shit I threw at Naomi for her single moment of weakness. First I flirted shamelessly with Sarah, the girl I kissed at that barbecue, then weeks of holding off Mandys understandable need to possess me after all the ' _will she won't she_ ', made me no better than Naomi. No better at all.

But being me, I had to go one step further. I shagged **Cook**. Not once, pissed and stoned in a scummy club toilet which may or may not have been eventually forgiven, but over and over again. On the couch, on the spare room bed, in the fucking _shower_ for Christ's sake. Then doing it in the morning again, stone cold sober. No excuses Emily. This was no drunken mistake. I loved it. Loved the feel of an experienced, assertive man inside me. The difference between the softness and subtlety of Naomi's love making to Cook's out and out animal fucking was strangely compelling.

Ever since I had my first period, I thought I was 100% gay. No posters of Beckham or rap singers for my part of the bedroom. Debbie Harry, Bat for Lashes, Audrey _Hepburn_ for fucks sake. Gay as the proverbial window me.

Except, as Naomi put so painfully in her final letter...(The letter that is so tear stained now, I have trouble making out all the words, although I've committed it to memory, so that doesn't matter at all now)...when I had 'proper' affairs it was with guys. Yeah, me, prize muff muncher of this West Country post code, shagged two _guys_. Maybe I could have consigned the brief liaison with JJ to history as a one off. It wasn't very memorable, except maybe for him. But Cook?

 **Jesus** , Emily.

I fucked Cook multiple times...and God help me, I liked it. Liked it so much he got me off every single time. I even put that florid dick of his in my mouth at one stage, just to make sure I got the full set of experiences. It makes me physically gag now, but it didn't then. That's still puzzles me. Suddenly I'm fucking bisexual? After years of being utterly horrified at the prospect of an erect penis?

Which of course all adds to Katies ammunition. She grins at me when she thinks I'm not looking, as if she was right all along. Apparently we have more in common that I ever knew.

Except it isn't really true.

Cook and I had one crazy night together. One night of wall to wall mindless shagging. No one ever said anything about love. Except Cook, according to Effy.

Now THAT threw me completely,

Cook being in love with me was the curve ball of all time. We'd hardly been best mates, even at college. He was Naomi's mate. The guy I alternately hated for being too close to her and yelled at when he made his daily crude threesome requests.

That Cook.

I looked at Effy as if she'd grown two heads when she finally spoke to me after Naomi left us all. Two weeks it took her. Two weeks in which I hardly left the couch in Katie's bedsit. My belongings piled in the corner in bags and cases. My life a pile of ashes. Nothing left.

"Well, you fucked that up Emily Fitch" Effy said coolly and without preamble when we literally bumped into each other outside Tesco's. I had just managed to drag myself out of the flat to buy vodka, Katie being understandably a bit miffed at me siphoning off her entire spirits supply recently.

I dropped my eyes and looked away, painfully conscious that I looked very similar to a certain bottle blonde a few short months ago with my raggedy sweater and jogging pants. Katie had refused to even be seen in public with me since I retreated into my self imposed alcoholic exile. Not that I can blame her. Microwaved shit would be a compliment.

"Is there a point you're making Eff?" I said miserably "...or is this just a bit more Emily bashing? You may not have heard, but I've got that pretty much covered on my own thanks".

Effy just regarded me with those intense ocean blue eyes and said nothing.

"I fucked up, or rather I fucked Cook in a moment of madness, now Naomi's gone for good" I said bitterly, worrying a hangnail with my teeth as she stood there silent. Maddening. Not the nail, Effy fucking Stonem.

"Bit more than a moment Emily" she observed "from what I heard from Cook, it was a 24 hour 'every room in the house' shagathon. Who knew you would be such an eager convert to dick after everything?"

Even in my anguished state, I wasn't having that. I flashed her an angry look and tried my best to put a brave face on it.

" **Not** necessary Effy" I said stiffly "I hardly need lessons from you in excess, do I? The only girl in Bristol with more cocks to her credit than my fucking sister?"

She smirked, totally unabashed at my insult.

"Yeah, but at least I keep my excesses outside the family Em...screwing Cook was pretty dumb, yeah?"

It was and all the fight went out of me in a rush. My eyes brimmed with tears I didn't think I had left.

"I still love her, Eff" I said hopelessly "Not Cook, despite what he thinks he wants. I fucked up, fucked Cook and now I've lost the most precious thing I ever had"

I suppose even Effy Stonem has feelings somewhere, hidden well below that impassive exterior. Her face softened a touch and she reached out and held my sleeve.

"Look, and this will sound fucked up coming from me after what I just said, you don't need me telling you how shit things are, I agree. How about we get a coffee, instead of you raiding the alcohol shelves in Tesco's?"

I hadn't even been in the shop yet, but I suppose it doesn't take a genius, let alone a ninja like Effy to guess what I was about to buy. I smiled weakly at her and nodded.

"Yeah, why not. It's not like they're gonna run out before I get back, is it?" I said sadly.

Effy just smiled enigmatically and guided me by the elbow to the café across the street, making sure I didn't disappear under a bus en route. Something I might well have done left to my own devices.

Five minutes later we're sitting opposite each other with two mochas in front of us.

"Right" she said calmly, not touching her drink. I thought idly that apart from alcohol and spliff, I'd never actually seen her consume anything as humdrum as food or liquids. Maybe she was from another planet, it was entirely possible.

"So, by the looks of you, life is pretty awful at the moment" she said pointlessly. I grimaced as I took a too hot sip of chocolate flavoured coffee and glared across the table.

"No shit Sherlock" I mumbled "what makes you think that? My girlfriend has fucked off for good, my sister can't resist telling me every five minutes that at least I'm not gay any more and the Sexual Health Clinic is taking for fucking ever to give me the all clear from my unprotected night of passion with James Cook. Life really couldn't be any better right now, could it?"

Effy just closed her lips for a second and ignored my anger.

"What's done is done Emily. Cook is fuck knows where, nursing the second broken heart us Roundview girls have dished out to him, Naomi is in London, doing a passable imitation of you right now... suffering for England and you...you're just wallowing in self pity"

I scraped back my chair and started to stand up. Fuck this, I thought. If I wanted to be reminded of the obvious, I could have stuck around at Katie's. Once she's finished noisily shagging whichever guy she brought back to the flat last night, I'm sure she'll have enough energy left to bless me with a few smug ' _I told you so's_ '

"Well, its been...well not nice actually, more pointless really..." I started but Effy just waved me back into my seat. Quite why I sat back down I don't know, but I did.

"Sit down Emily. It's not like you have anywhere urgent to go, is it? The vodka aisle will still be there in ten minutes?"

Again I flashed her a dark look. Again she ignored it.

"Like I said, what's done is done. You hurt her, probably even more than she did you with that girl Sophia. Thing is, are you just gonna give up, let her go, or are you gonna stand and fight, like she did when you were giving her shed loads of punishment?"

I gaped at that.

"It may have escaped your notice..." I said icily "...but there isn't anything to 'stand and fight' for. She's gone. Probably found a nice faithful gay girl to take out by now. Anyway, she made it quite clear she never wants to see me again. What's the point in hoping?"

Effy teased a sugar grain around the table a bit before answering. She stared straight at me and I realised the tormenting was over, for now at least.

"Do you still love her, like **really** love her?" she said seriously.

"More than ever" I answered instantly and it seemed to be the right thing to do, because she smiled genuinely this time.

"Well, the first thing I've got to say is you need to give her time Emily. Not just a week or a month, but 6, maybe 12 months?"

I gaped again.

"A fucking YEAR?" I said incredulously "Jesus Eff, I thought you might have brought me here to help out. In a year she could be anywhere, with anyone. I can't wait that long to see her again. I'll go fucking _mad_ "

She looked at me again with a calculating stare.

"I didn't say it would be easy Emily. You love her and she still loves you, but this isn't something that can be mended in a few weeks. You of all people know what she's like. Right now, she hates even hearing your name. You go bursting back into her life and she'll just run again. Maybe this time to Manchester, or abroad. Then I won't be able to help. No, you have to give her the space to remember how much she misses you. It'll take a hell of a lot for her to forgive what you've done. But let me ask you something...?"

I waited for her to continue.

"What's the opposite of love Emily?" she said calmly.

"W...what?" I said "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"I said, what's the opposite of love" she said again in the same even voice.

"Hate, for Christ's sake, I thought we'd just established that?"

Effy shook her head as if I was borderline moronic.

"No Em. Love and hate are part of the same equation. They both mean you care what someone thinks, just in different ways. The opposite of love is...indifference. When you don't care about someone else, it really _IS_ all over. Naomi thinks she hates you at the moment, but she's wallowing in grief and despair like you instead. She hates what you **did** , and specially who you did it with..."

I winced as flashbacks of Cook's eager face as he knelt over me, thrusting into my willing body on the couch tormented my conscience. I hated myself, so I knew how Naomi must be feeling.

"...but she still loves you Emily Fitch. She just can't think about you at the moment without imagining you with Cook, her best mate. That's gotta hurt. Like I said, give it some time. Get yourself straightened out, get a job, try to patch up your life, let her do the same thing. Neither of you are anywhere near ready to start again with someone else, so I wouldn't worry about her replacing you with some perfect substitute just yet. Give me a call when you think **you're** ready to see her again and I'll pass on a message..."

This time it was Effy that started to get up, I shot my hand out and gripped her wrist. It felt like holding a small bird, all tiny bones and delicate membrane.

"Wait...you _know?_...she's told you where she is?...Please Effy, give me her address, her number...I need to I..."

Effy shook her head decisively and pulled free easily from my grasp.

"No, Emily. Have you not heard a word I just said? I don't break promises and I told her I wouldn't tell anyone where she is...especially you. If you want her back. If you want to mend this thing...you have to trust me. Trust her. Otherwise...?" she arched an eyebrow and left that hanging.

XXX

9 months later.

"Seen the paper Em?" Katie said in a tone I recognised as one she used when she wanted to torment me. Like when we were 15 and she showed me the picture of some gorgeous female celeb I fancied in the news, engaged to some knuckle head reality star. She might have aged a year or so, but the older twin thing still amuses her no end.

I grimaced and waited for the punch line.

Instead of saying anything, she chucked the local paper over so it landed open on my lap. I carefully put down my almost spilled brimming cup of coffee and glared at her pointlessly. Bitch.

"I'm gonna be late for work, Kay" I said, deliberately not looking down at the paper.

"Still, you really should read that story on page 5", she said, smirking. I growled in impatience. Fucking Katie. What possessed me to flat share with her again escaped me at that point. But even with both of us working, we barely made enough to pay the horrendous private rent on this place. At least it had two bedrooms and a balcony with a view. I'd spent enough nights on her couch in the old place, enduring my twin sisters entirely bogus orgasmic groans as one stud after another ploughed her willing body after a night out. My bedroom was the other side of the building in this flat and I made sure I had headphones on whenever she 'entertained'. No one should be forced to hear her sister having sex.

As for myself, there hadn't been a whole lot of entertaining, horizontal or not, these past months. Not that I've been entirely celibate. Two willing Bristol uni girls were shagged here then discarded in short order. I even took Katies prompting and screwed some guy from her office at Christmas while she was out, just to reassure myself that fucking males was right out of my system. I kicked him out as soon as he came. If I'd waited for my own release, I might still be under him.

It was shit. If Cook had been a revelation, this guy was worse than JJ. In, out, thank you ma'am. The girls weren't much more satisfying. They used me, I used them. End of.

But to keep the peace, I sighed and picked up the paper. Might as well get it over with. By the look of the evil grin on her face, it was something she knew would piss me off. I scanned down page 5, looking for something familiar.

' _Bristol man given 7 years for drug offences_ ' was the only headline. "So what?" was already on my lips, until I reached the court report, that is.

' _James Cook, who had given_ _the police_ _a_ _n Alfred Road,_ _Bristol address as his_ _home_ _although arrested in Manchester, has been sentenced_ _at Manchester Crown Court_ _to 7 years in prison for offences including possession of class A drugs with intent to supply and assaulting_ _two_ _police officer_ _s_ _. Cook shouted_ _obscene_ _abuse at the trial judge as he was sentenced_ _so_ _was brought back up into the dock after an hour_ _in the cells_ _,_ _His Honour_ _Justice Greenwood_ _giving him another 6 months imprisonment to run consecutively for contempt of court'_

Its funny how just reading someone's name can make your blood run cold, isn't it? I had almost put Cook completely out of my mind these past few months. Almost.

7 years and 6 months. Jesus.

Of course, Cooks name in print brought another one to mind. One I definitely _hadn't_ forgotten.

Naomi Campbell.

Naomi Campbell. who's address and phone number I now had in my purse. The girl who broke my heart as I broke hers. The girl who lived at the other end of this train line. The girl who might break my heart all over again if she won't let me back into her life.

I sighed in resignation as the inevitable late passenger stepped on my toes as he took the last available seat on this Inter City to Paddington. Effy had been true to her word. I was going to London. To see if this last 9 months of purgatory could be ended.

To see if she will forgive me.

XXX

 **OK, that's it. Hope you liked it. The reunion, if it actually happens, is in the next bit. I think it might be bloody. Just an observation.**

 **Thank for stopping by.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Next bit then. I realise this isn't everyone's idea of a fun Naomily story. But I'm plugging on with it. I just thought it was an interesting and unusual dynamic, Emily cheating with the last person you would ever expect her to. You can rest easy there will be no misty eyed lurid reminiscences from Emily in this chapter about Cook's expertise with the tattooed pork sword. I think Guinevere McAdam did that comprehensively in the story which inspired this one. Nope, this chapter is from Naomi's POV and will not feature any tumescent males, I promise. Mind you, it's been 9 months since they split so there will be sexual references... They are both healthy girls with lots of bubbling hormones and 9 months is a _very_ long time when you're 18 or so. It's only a couple of years ago for me and I remember distinctly feeling like a month was more like a year back then. So forgive Emily for her brief and unsatisfactory random shags during her lonely vigil. She's trying to deaden the pain and forget for just one tiny moment that her heart is completely broken, self inflicted or not. Naomi too has needs...one of which is currently being 'satisfied'. Just so you know...**

 **Mistakes all mine, Skins someone else's. Someone heartless.**

Naomi

I gripped the bedpost with one clammy hand and tried to regulate the curly head that was bobbing deliberately between my legs. If only she does... _that_...for a few seconds more, I thought hopefully, I might just, in fact I'm very nearly...

But then she stopped that addictive repetitive movement of her tongue on my clit and instead starts to nip and tease somewhere else. I bit back a moan of frustration, hoping she might mistake it for one of happiness. Satisfaction was close, but she just stopped doing the exact thing I needed her to. Damn.

For a millisecond I start to compare her technique to someone far more familiar and expert with my body...

 _No_! I scold myself. Not again. Not this time, Naomi. It's really not Sasha's fault. She's lovely in fact. Kind, attentive, sexy and very willing to do whatever I want her to in bed. Not that we've been to bed that often (OK, this is the second time) but we have enjoyed some pretty heated make out sessions elsewhere.

I met her at the place I started working at 3 months ago. I'd been up here in London for nearly 6 months by then, doing mostly dreary menial waiting and cleaning work, whatever I could get, but I'd consciously avoided any sort of hook up with people my age until now. Getting this job, in Charing Cross Road, in Foyles of all places, felt like the answer to all my problems. Probably the most famous bookshop in the world with over 4 miles of shelving and sections on just about everything in print, it was like a personal nirvana. Add to that a great coffee shop and masses of interesting and intelligent people to work for and with and bingo...I started to feel like I could finally put the past and Bristol and...well...other things behind me.

Maybe.

OK, it took me weeks to do any socialising with the other staff. Even though the place almost hums with sexy girls. Students, tourists, university dons, office workers, professors. You name it, Foyles is like THE destination for the book lover, it still felt like I was an outsider though.

Then I met Sasha.

Sasha is a second year student at the London University. It's summer now, so she's working here at Foyles to stay solvent until autumn term. She's funny, very pretty and taller than me. Oh, and she's originally from French Mauritius. I'd hardly heard of it before I met her, but its apparently an island in the Indian Ocean, about a thousand miles off the African Coast. It's exotic, and so is she. Skin like silky mocha, teeth so white it hurts and dark, expressive eyes.

Oh, and her body is to die for. Big breasts, soft but firm and legs that go on forever. Quite why she fancies me, let alone is currently using that voluptuous mouth to tease me senseless, escapes me. But she does.

From the day we were introduced in the staff canteen, she made no bones about fancying me. Maybe its my pale skin, maybe my (fake) blonde hair. Or maybe my eyes, which she spends ages looking into. I dunno. But fancy me she does and after an initial reluctance to even think about starting another relationship after...well, after _her,_ I gave in and agreed to go out for 'one drink' with the persistent girl. Then another one.

She took it slow after I explained the ragged hole in my heart caused by my treacherous ex, but bit by bit, Sasha wore me down. It was three dates before she even tried to kiss me goodnight. Despite my fears that every kiss, every touch from another woman would feel like cheating, I found myself gradually allowing her to get closer to me. After a month we were out and out snogging on my doorstep before she left to go back up Tottenham Court Road to her student halls. After 2 months, I was finding it almost impossible to keep fending her off. So I stopped trying so much.

" _She's really fit Naomi, she's well into you and you need to let_ _the past_ _go_ "

That's what my inner voice told me over and over.

I knew it was right. Emily was my past. Maybe Sasha was my future? In any case, I was hardly nun material, was I? Short of taking vows, I was going to hook up with another woman sometime or other, why not now?.

So that's why I'm here. Lying stark naked on my single bed, with just the flickering multi coloured lights of passing traffic illuminating the ceiling of my top floor bedsit. With an equally naked Sasha lying on her stomach between my legs, trying her very best to make me lose it.

And if she goes back to that rhythmic licking, she might just succeed.

Unlike my previous attempts with the odd random at a club or pub, I wasn't looking for instant gratification tonight. Given enough booze and the odd tab of something, I had managed to enjoy (if that's the right word) a couple of emotionless upright shags with willing girls. A bit of dance floor snogging, an alley or empty cubicle. Then the bare minimum of cupping and squeezing a compliant body before zips and buttons were freed enough to dip and explore. A mouth sucking my neck, straight, eager fingers inside me and a heated fanny to explore with my own digits, it was enough to scratch my itch. We gasped out our satisfaction over each others shoulders. No sweet talking or exchanged numbers. Just a loveless fuck between casual acquaintances.

Jesus, I sounded like Cook there. Something I never thought would happen.

Specially as the last time I spoke to him was 5 months ago. Well, I say spoke. More scream really. Fuck knows where he got my number, although I suspect Effy fucking Stonem had a lot to do with it, but he rang me to apologise...about him and Emily. About screwing MY girlfriend in MY fucking house. Repeatedly.

Right, _apologise_?

He _fucked_ her... Emily Fitch... girl of my dreams. The person I loved and trusted more than anyone else in the world. The girl I intended to grow old with. Not just fucked her either, but in the place I called home, over and over again by all accounts. Horror piled on horror. There was no forgiveness in my heart for that level of betrayal.

I think apology was never going to be a word big enough for him to live up to, was it?

So I let him have it. Both barrels. For about 10 fucking minutes. He never answered back, never tried to justify it. Just listened as I ranted, waited till I caught my breath and ran out of expletives, then said quietly.

" _I know blondie. I know. You hate me, she hates me. Even Effy thinks I'm a fucking waste of space. I know I've blown it. I just wanted to_ _let you know I hate myself too. Have a good life Naomikins. I hope I haven't ruined it forever"_

My bitter laugh was the last time he heard my voice. I hung up.

But I tried to put that and Emily Fitch out of my mind after that. Effy called occasionally, with sparse details of the car crash known as her life, but that was that. The E word was never used by either of us, or at least after she tried to use it the first couple of times she called. I hung up both times and that made her give up. We just restricted ourselves to anodyne day to day nonsense about mundane things. I think she was as bored with it all as me after a few months.

Now she calls rarely, and only for a minute or two. Strangely, I think she just does it to reassure herself I'm still breathing...oh, and 'coping' whatever that fucking means. Sasha changes her angle of attack and for a second or two I forget Effy and Bristol. She might just, if she slips her fingers in...now...but no. She's off again, kissing the inside of my thighs and I feel my libido flagging again.

Fuck this, I think...we'll be here all night. I decide to give her a break. Increasing my breathing a few beats and lifting my hips as she starts to lick me again, I give her what can only be described as an Oscar winning imitation of a woman in orgasm

"Oh...oh...oh fuck Sasha...that's it, just there, Oh God...YES!"

I settle back after a few seconds writhing and look down. There is a tiny flicker of unease in her expressive eyes at my instant release, but I reckon her tongue was getting tired anyway, so it's quickly replaced with a smirk of triumph.

"Good huh?" she says, licking her lips and rubbing her chin with her hand. I get a twinge from that gesture, not regret, but my own unease at tricking her. Oh well, I think, my turn now.

I flip her over and settle between her legs. We've only slept with each other twice now, as opposed to heated fumbling at my front door, but I already know what she likes. Within five minutes, I feel her gripping my hair, shuddering as she groans out her climax. A real one this time. I feel a seconds guilt again, but it is smothered as she kisses me gratefully and we snuggle together on my narrow bed.

It's not perfect, I think as her breathing steadies and deepens. But its close enough. After all those months of agony, maybe this is as good as it gets. I'll wait till she's been asleep for a few more minutes, then I'll sneak into the bathroom and finish what she started...

XXX

Emily

It's amazingly busy up here. Much more than I anticipated. Bristol always seems lively and crammed with people. But London? Another level.

I'd only been up here a few times before. Gigs and once to the theatre to see Les Miserables. In and out really.

But now I'm here, with a crammed rucksack and a small bag, the only lifeline to Bristol my phone and the notebook Effy gave me before I left with directions and the address of a small student hostel in Camden. It's getting late now, so it will be tomorrow before I try to find Naomi's address. I think briefly about phoning her (Effy gave me the number on the platform before I left) but I chicken out. I did as I was told, gave her space and time. Every week seemed like a year and it's hard to believe 9 months have passed since I betrayed her. Cook is in prison, Katie is on her third Championship footballer this year and Naomi? Well, I don't know. Effy says she doesn't say much about her new life. Just that she's getting on OK, got a job in some book store and has some new friends. The chill that went through me when Effy threw that casual comment in made me shiver. New friends? That could mean a lot of things. None of them good as far as I'm concerned. New friends means drinks and parties and clubs. New friends means attractive women. Lots of attractive women.

But I put that aside, madness was the only resident of that padded room. No, I had to get on with trying to make amends. As Effy said (maddeningly certain), the time for distance and silence was over. Now I needed to be in her face. Literally. Everywhere she goes, every day. It's going to be hard, brutal even, because I know how stubborn she can be. But it's my one chance.

XXX

7.45 am, off Tottenham Court Road.

Naomi

Sasha has classes at 9 and I have work at 8.30 so I resist the offer of a morning shag (luckily the ten minutes I spent in the bathroom after she dropped off last night took the edge off my frustration) and push her towards the door. We share a nice slow kiss, just to show her I don't really want her to go, bit eventually she lets me open it and takes her hand out from under my tee. My lips are tingling from her soft kisses and it would be oh so easy to let her push me back into the bedsit and onto my couch, but I know if I let her, we'll never make it to work or college. She might still be learning what gets me off, but the journey is worth it on it's own. Sooner or later she'll get it right (I hope)

We stumble down the stairs to the street door and I pull it open. Thank heaven this side street is quiet this time of the morning. I don't want to give some be suited drone a heart attack watching two gay girls groping before breakfast.

"One more kiss" she giggles, trying to get her hand back under my tee. I only have knickers on underneath, so I wriggle away from her efforts to fondle my tits. God knows why she finds them so fascinating, hers are way bigger and sexier than mine? But she does.

I push her back, making a pout face to show her I would love to give her the time to explore more and she laughs at my expression.

"Oh Naoms" she says happily "I'm so glad we got together...I love your silly faces"

I smile back and for a second, my doubts recede. She's sexy, stunning and more importantly, so into me its not true. I decide the and there to forget my past and let this exotic beauty in. I deserve some happiness...don't I?

God, of course, smirks knowingly at my certainty. As the door swings open, letting a chilly breeze in, I look out onto the street.

And freeze.

Sitting on a bench, next to a big green waste bin...is a figure I recognise instantly.

Jeans, a black tee under a thick cardigan, buttoned up against the morning chill. A grey woollen beanie on her head, trapping her thick brown hair. A face pale but still unbelievably beautiful, soulful eyes fixed on the door I'm standing in.

Emily Fitch.

I stare, she stares. Sasha looks at my face, then spins round to see what has transfixed me. I have a moment to recognise their different expressions. Emily shocked, hurt, disappointed in quick succession. Sasha curious, then grim as understanding hits her.

Shit.

 **Well, that's it for this morning. The ordure has hit the spinning mechanism. The collateral damage will need a whole chapter to explain. If you want me to, that is?**


	5. Chapter 5

**More _LTE_ then. I plan to update about once a week, depending on how I get on with the other story, _DG_. I never realised it would be so hard to get into two character versions at once! So I often find myself writing a paragraph for this, forgetting that in my other story, Naomi is happy(ish) with Emily (if not Effy) and wouldn't be quite so bitchy! Anyway, here goes again with the post Cemily story (sorry about that!) This is a bit... _angsty_.**

Naomi

I slammed the door so hard I worried for a second that the lock and knocker would disintegrate on the spot. Sasha had wanted to stay with me and face Emily, realising of course that the person sitting outside shivering in the cold was none other than the infamous Emily Fitch. Not that I'd been that forthcoming about my ex in conversations with my new gf. I could hardly bring myself to say her name, so long discussions were right out. But I did give Sasha the abridged version, shocking infidelity and all. Actually, that was the biggest section come to think of it.

Unlike me (and my now ex) Sasha had never been to bed with a guy, so she had no point of reference for the sort of betrayal I felt, but like all of us she'd had her heart broken before, so had some sympathy with my venomous comments about my ex girlfriend and my _ex_ best friend getting friendly multiple times in my own fucking house. I spared her the graphic details, but she let me cry more than once on her shoulder all the same.

I don't think we had spoken about Miss E Fitch for a while though, so I guess it was as big a shock to her as me when I opened the door to find her sitting on the rusty metal seat opposite. I managed to convince Sasha to go on to uni nevertheless. No point in her being there to watch the big show, was there? Not that I intended to give passers by a demonstration of my considerable ability to construct long uninterrupted sentences with every profanity in existence included. No...I just wanted the space to say a few short words to my stalker, then get ready for work. I was going to be late if I didn't hurry.

Well that was the plan. As Sasha passed by Emily, shooting me a worried look over her shoulder and just settling for a glare at the sitting twin as she did, I took a deep breath and leaned against the door frame for support, waiting for my ex to say something. I don't know what I was expecting, but then neither did she I guess.

"Well?" I said flatly as she got up gingerly (I'm guessing the seat was as cold as the weather) and approached me. I had no intention of making this easy for her.

"Naomi" she said in that dark brown voice which never failed to make my insides liquefy. Damn her and her husky vocal chords.

"What do you _want_ Emily?" I said coldly "I thought we'd sorted this all out. You cheated on me, fucked my best friend. Now I want nothing more to do with you...ever. Isn't that clear enough for you?"

She swallowed hard and her eyes filled with tears. I actually took a step backwards. My treacherous heart thumped in my chest at her proximity and I knew I was at my weakest when she was this close. Much better to keep her more than at arms length.

"Naoms, I'm...I'm so sor..." she started, but I stopped her saying any more.

" _ **Sorry**_?" I said bitterly "Sorry for _what_ Emily? Making me fall in love with you in the first place? Making me think I was forgiven for Sophia, just to ram it down my throat months later? Sorry for fucking _Cook_ all over my pissing house, so I couldn't even sleep in my own **bed**? Sorry for destroying any trust I have left in people. Which sorry are you actually talking about?"

My voice was getting louder and a couple of passers by, hurrying to their offices, glanced at us as we stood opposite each other like a fucking duel was about to start. I knew we would draw a crowd if it went on any longer, so I pursed my lips as Emily started to cry properly. I always hated to see her break down. Even when she confessed about Cook in that foreign hotel room, half of me wanted to comfort her instead of slapping her face. She was, no is, my weakness, so I braced myself to resist. One touch, one kiss and all my lonely isolation would be for nothing. Despite what she'd done and who she'd done it with, part of my brain was hard wired to forgive her.

"I fucked up" she said brokenly "I fucked up so badly, I can't even forgive myself, so I don't blame you if you can't. I just...I just..." she struggled for words, wringing a small handkerchief in her small hands.

But forgiveness was fast losing ground inside me to anger and revenge. Even if I could get past what she'd done, which wasn't likely any time soon, I knew images of her and Cook in my house, naked, fucking on every surface, would pollute any chance of a reconciliation. In any case, there was Sasha now. Kind, gentle Sasha, with her expressive eyes and happy, hopeful smile. We were just setting out on a relationship. Why the hell would I throw that away and go back to someone who had already ruined my life?

I forced a hard grin onto my face. There were more people passing now as rush hour began in earnest. I needed to make this quick before some sly wag decided to start an upside down hat collection for the early morning street theatre.

"Good was he...Cook I mean?" I asked icily "...fucked you good and proper, I bet. Not like poor JJ, wham bam, premature ejaculation ma'am. I bet Cook went on and on, like the fucking Duracell bunny. Go on Ems, tell me he didn't get you off over and over. Bit of booze, some MDMA, I know how horny you get. I bet you screamed the fucking place down. He's got a big cock, I know...I felt it up against me when he tried to shag me in that classroom back at Roundview. Bet it felt good right up inside you, huh? Made you come? Yeah, he _definitely_ made you come. Must have done, you went back for more all night...how many times was it? I mean we both know one orgasm isn't enough for you"

Emily wasn't answering, just looking at me like a fawn about to be devoured by a lion. Terrified, broken. But I was on a roll now. No forgiveness, not then, not now. I wanted to wound, to slash, to torment.

"Made your jaw ache too I bet, didn't he? Effy tells me he loves to get sucked off. She spent enough time on her knees in front of him to know. Don't tell me he didn't want the willing little lesbian to do some cock sucking too...go on, lie to me?"

I hated the imagery I was creating in my own head, but by the looks of it, Emily hated it way more. I saw a flash of remorse and guilt in her eyes and knew with a sickening certainty that my jibe was accurate. Even _that_ then, I thought desolately, even that nasty taboo ticked and filed away.

Suddenly I was nauseous. I couldn't look at her face, the soft lips I had kissed a thousand times, without seeing her doing... _that_...to Cook.

" _Ughhh_ , Get out of my life Emily. I can never forgive you, never forget what you did. I have a new life now. New home, new job, new friends...new _girlfriend_ " I spat "Go home Emily, there's nothing here for you"

With that, I drew back inside, away from her pleading eyes, away from the curious commuter stares, away from reality. The door shook for seconds after I slammed it shut. I ran upstairs and collapsed onto the couch. I couldn't face work, not now, so I thumbed a quick fake sickness text to my boss.

Then I laid down on the comforting softness of the couch and cried...and cried. For me, for my lost trust...and yes, maybe even for Emily.

XXX

An hour later, I got off the couch, walked into the bathroom and dropped my night clothes onto the floor. Time enough to pick them up later. My face and eyes were red and sore from the long crying jag. I thought I was all over this. Over the torture of imagining how Emily had given herself to Cook. After all we'd been through, all my remorse and agony over Sophia's death and my own bit of infidelity. After the months of meaness and disgust Emily threw at me for cheating on her...after my complete opening up in the shed, confessing I'd loved her from even before she knew she loved me. After she forgave me and gave me a reason to live again.

After all that. She has one night of drug fuelled sex with the guy I thought would always have my back. Right...well, he'd certainly had _Emily's_ back, and front, and every other fucking angle. I bit my bottom lip hard and forced myself to think of something, anything else. The hot water needled my skin as I turned the shower onto full power. Even though it was a lot warmer in the apartment than outside, I was still shivering until the finally heat reached my bones.

Finally I stepped out, clean outside, but still cringing inwardly. I cleaned my teeth vigorously before slipping on a clean tee and shorts from the linen cupboard outside the bathroom. My stomach and face still ached from the tension and I knew my eyes would be red and puffy, but I felt marginally better.

Putting the Gaggia on and filling the top with some good ground coffee, I pulled my big _I love Minis_ mug from the cupboard over the sink and shook a couple of sweeteners in. At least the coffee wouldn't let me down, I thought grimly as I waited for the machine to hiss and bubble its way to delicious Java. I tidied up a few plates and cutlery for something to do. Looking out of the kitchen window at the building opposite I could see it had started to rain quite heavily.

The sky was as grey as my mood, but the first swallow of dark bitter liquid improved it slightly. If I was going to be off all day, I might as well enjoy it, I thought, tapping random play onto the ipod and walking into the living room cum bedroom. My place might be small and cheap, but since I'd been here, I'd made it my own. Books lined the walls, some on shelves, some in neat piles on the floor. Working at the best bookshop in London had some advantages, like staff discounts. I flopped the quilt back over the bed Sasha and I had been in what seemed like a year ago. Now the room was tidy, I walked to the window, cup still in hand, to let some air in. It wasn't exactly a bordello aroma, but I could still faintly detect definite traces of excited girl in here. Maybe Sasha had a way to go before she could arouse me like...well..like I knew was possible, but she _was_ a trier. I liked her, trusted her (as much as I could ever trust anyone again after...) and she obviously doted on me. It wasn't perfect yet, but so what...what is?

Lifting the catch on the window I pushed it up and open. The building was old and the landlord was a stranger to double glazing, but the lovely old sash window, even at a hundred years old, slid upwards smoothly. It wasn't until the window was fully up that I glanced down at the wet street.

 **Fuck**.

Still sitting on the glistening metal bench, her arms wrapped round her wet clothes. One Emily Fitch. Looking up at me with those huge fucking eyes again. She looked utterly pathetic. Soaked, shivering and pale with exhaustion. Jesus, I thought, she's been out there for fucking hours.

I wanted to just shut the window and finish my coffee. I wanted to ignore her suffering and banish any thought of mercy from my stupid head. I wanted nothing more than to pretend she wasn't even there.

But since when did my head do the opposite to what my heart wanted?

Not since Roundview, that's for sure.

I sighed in resignation.

And went down to the front door to let her in.

 **I'm stopping there because I have a chapter of Dirty Girl half written. Time to throw Effy back into the mix there. I hope this wasn't too hard to read. Emily/Cook isn't exactly my favourite ship either, but hey?**

 **Reviews would be wonderful, if you have the time and inclination. Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Next chapter in the Letter to Emily saga. Naomi has relented...or has she?**

 **Mistakes are all mine. Sadly, Skins is not. That is all.**

Emily

Well, I did it. If 'it' is actually standing inside Naomi's bedsit, dripping on her carpet and shivering uncontrollably. I'd tell you I was cold and miserable, but that would be the world's biggest understatement. Despite my determination to sit it out on that cold and rusty bench outside while the heavens opened above me, I was a minute away from just giving up and leaving (at least for today) when the street door opened and Naomi stood there, staring at me with an unreadable expression on her face. She just nodded at me briefly, before holding the door wide and letting me inside.

The instant warmth of the building, even in the scruffy green corridor with its peeling paint and abandoned cycle with no front wheel, made me shiver even harder. I wasn't just wet, more drowned. Icy, persistent rain had been falling on my head and slipping down the neck of my top for what seemed hours and I felt thoroughly chilled through. I soggily followed Naomi up the steep, narrow stairs in my sodden green flats and then into her small apartment. The first thing that struck me was how... _Naomi_...it all looked. A tatty brown leather chair with her reading glasses perched on the arm in one corner, books of all shapes and sizes piled up on the floor as well as filling mismatched bookcases along two walls. A print of London from the air on the wall opposite the window,. A door led to what I guessed was her kitchen. It looked about as big as a walk in wardrobe, but I suppose renting in London was so ruinously expensive, understandably it wasn't exactly luxurious. It made me remember 'our' little house in Alfred Road. The comfy double bedroom we shared and the large, airy bathroom, with its shower and old fashioned roll top bath (a bath we had also shared many times) . Space everywhere. Our space. Space I had stupidly defiled with a naked and rampant Cook. Ruined...spoiled.

Then I saw the bed... _her_ bed. A double, with a rumpled and creased duvet piled at the bottom as if she'd just jumped out of it. Suddenly I remembered the dark girl who'd left an hour or so ago. Pretty, some would say beautiful even. She'd been here...all night...probably making love to MY love. In fact that was a certainty, wasn't it? I mean who fucking wouldn't given the chance?

Jealousy flared through me like a green flame, but it was quickly extinguished when I remembered why Naomi needed to bring another girl to her bed. My fault...my fucking _fault_.

Now _look_ at what you've brought her to, my conscience nagged me savagely. I shivered again, my bottom lip quivering as I hovered between physical exposure and terminal guilt.

Naomi regarded me with a stony expression for another few seconds as I stood there, water pooling in my shoes, then sort of shook herself and gestured to another door.

"The...the bathroom is through there" she gestured "You're totally frozen and soaked Emily. Go in there and get out of those clothes and...get under the shower...I'll fetch you a towel and something of mine to wear"

She bit her lip as I stood there, still dripping.

Well, it wasn't forgiveness, but I took it as tiny progress anyway. She obviously didn't want me actually dying of hypothermia in her flat at least. I grasped the slim possibility that she still cared about me like a drowning woman does a thrown lifebelt. Trembling, I nodded and allowed her to guide me into the small shower room. The door clicked behind me, not before I heard her sigh heavily. I knew this must be chewing her up almost as much as me, having me in so close a proximity, but at least I had the chance to talk to her now. It was a start, yeah?

I stripped off my dripping clothes and underwear then gratefully immersed myself in hot water. The shower was surprisingly powerful for a rented apartment, so I allowed myself a brief few moments of pleasure as the needle spray boosted my temperature and finally stopped me shuddering. After five minutes or so, I heard the door click open again, although the steam in the room obscured my view. I guessed, correctly as it turned out, that Naomi was making good on her promise to bring me a bath towel and some dry clothes. As I turned off the water and put my hand on the shower door handle to step out, I heard a small gasp, then the outer door shut with a bang. It wasn't until I'd got out properly and started drying myself that I realised she must have been able to see me through the shower glass. I almost smirked to myself at her reaction, but quickly suppressed it as I remembered my dire situation. She might still find a naked Emily Fitch attractive, but I would bet my whole life savings on that brief moment of weakness not being repeated again today. I was a long, **long** way from being forgiven.

She'd left a faded blue and white striped indie band tee and a pair of plain grey jogging bottoms on the rickety chair by the door. After I was properly dry, I used her brush to comb out my still wet hair. Looking at myself in the mirror, I was surprised at how healthy I looked, specially given the past few months self imposed torture and this mornings soaking. Amazing how a hot shower improves your mood, huh?

That only lasted until I looked around for a hair clip to keep the fringe out of my face. No clip, but in a small plastic tumbler, a half squeezed toothpaste tube...and two toothbrushes.

 _Two_ fucking toothbrushes.

So this mornings visitor wasn't just an occasional one then I thought grimly. Naomi's jibe about new life, new friends and new girlfriend echoed in my head. Two toothbrushes. Which meant only one thing. This pretty dark girl wasn't just a random, used for instant gratification and discarded next morning (I knew _that_ scenario well enough). This girl was at least semi permanent in Naomi's new life. My heart sank to my feet all over again. Naomi might be capable of being kind to me. But anything else was not going to happen. She'd moved on. It's official.

I dressed without delaying any more. The tee was too big, but comfortably warm and soft. The jogging bottoms were way too long, so I rolled them up to fit. I probably looked ridiculous, but that hardly mattered. My belongings were in a left luggage box in Paddington Station. Last night had been spent in a small hotel nearby, but even that had been ruinously expensive. I had no idea where I was gong to stay while I tried to repair my damaged relationship, but again, it hardly mattered.

I sighed as heavily as she had when she showed me in here and opened the bathroom door.

Time to pay the piper...

When I stepped into the room, she was sitting in the chair, cradling what I assumed was a fresh cup of coffee. Another mug steamed on an upturned box between the bed and the chair. Obviously, she didn't want me too close, so I gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, noticing that she had tidied up, including making the bed while I had been in the shower. I reached for the cup as she sipped hers and took a good swallow of strong hot coffee. It was sweet, the way I always took it, with a lot more milk in it than she preferred. It made my heart jolt again as I realised she'd probably made it like that without thinking, old habits dying hard and all that.

When I raised my head after letting the sweet liquid warm my throat, she was looking at me coldly.

"Well?" she said "I don't know what the point of this is Emily, but you wanted to explain...so explain?"

I didn't actually know where to start, despite all the hours I'd spent going over what I'd say if she ever spoke to me again, so I took another mouthful of hot coffee before putting the cup down.

"I..I...look I'm so sorry Nao..." I started, but she interrupted, rolling her eyes in that oh so familiar way. I'd been on the end of that gesture hundreds of times, but not like this.

"Can we cut to the chase Emily? I'm going to lose a days pay as it is. I let you come in here, sorted you out...against my better judgement...can you just say what you came to say? Sorry isn't really appropriate for what you and Cook did, is it... _hun_?"

I blinked at the sneer in that last word. Jesus, the last time she said that we were standing outside the Love Ball, and I was with another of my serial fuck ups, JJ. This wasn't going to plan at _all_.

"OK" I said, just the hint of a tremble in my voice "But I want you to know that I am...sorry that is...more sorry than I've ever been about anything in my life. What I did was unforgivable...and I know I have no right to be here. But I just can't _not_ be. I've tried moving on, tried to forget...us. But I can't. Effy said you needed time to heal but..."

Again she huffed and stared at me coldly.

"Nice to know Effy is still interfering. She seems a constant in this car crash we called a relationship. Wasn't she the one who started it all by sending that note about the love struck Cook...how is he by the way..enjoying his daily porridge?"

Her tone was so icy, I physically shrunk back. I thought...well I thought maybe the 9 months I had endured away from her might have softened her about me and Cook...apparently not.

"I...I don't know about Coo..him." I said, risking another small sip of coffee "...I haven't spoken to or seen him since..."

"Since you fucked his brains out for 12 hours in our house?" Naomi offered unhelpfully.

I looked away. This was definitely not how I wanted this to go. Raising Cook's name was obviously a red rag item. I tried to steer the conversation back to why I'd come here.

"Look Naomi, I know you hate me, hate Cook...hate what we did but..."

"I don't hate you Emily" she said, suddenly looking more vulnerable then I'd ever seen her "I've _never_ hated you. That's the problem. I might not still be in love with you, but I don't hate you...I loved you more than anything I ever believed I could and you broke my heart"

Her voice ended on a whisper. It made me so sad, tears instantly sprang to my eyes.

My heart plummeted yet again. She didn't love me any more. All those crazy hopes and fantasies I'd nursed all these months seemed childish and ridiculous now. Of _course_ she didn't love me any more. Why would she? I'd cheated on her with her best friend. It may be because I'm thick, but even after all this time, I was still slowly understanding how deep this sense of betrayal went with Naomi. She'd _never_ been a person comfortable with trust. Cook and I were probably the only two people on the planet, apart from her mum, she actually let inside that guarded compound she called her heart. And we'd smashed it, broken it to pieces.

I opened my mouth to say something, what I don't even know, when the silence was broken by her phone buzzing on the bed next to me. I jumped at the sound and so did Naomi. She reached past me, brushing my bare arm with hers as she did. It felt like I had touched metal after walking on thick carpet. Both of us jerked back at the sensation.

"Probably work, checking on me" she mumbled unconvincingly as she flipped open the leather case. Her eyes widened when she saw the caller id then flashed me a warning look to be quiet as she turned away to answer it. I knew with sickening certainty who was on the other end. The mystery dark skinned girl.

"Hi babe" Naomi said, in a tone she hadn't used with me for what seemed years now. "...Umm...yeah...I mean yes, she's still around...no, I'm fine babe...really...we're just tying up some last loose ends. _No_...Sasha, no, you need the credits, stay there. I'll cook tonight for us. Meet me later, huh?" Yeah, that'd be great, red would be nice". She took in a surprised breath as the person the other end said something "Uh..OK...oh...right...yeah well I have to go now so..."

She tailed off and gave a strange look at the phone as she disconnected. Whatever this Sasha (knowing her name made it even more real) had said at the end, it had blind sided Naomi. She looked...shocked... somehow.

She looked up at me then.

"Sorry about that" she said, her voice a little high pitched.

I blinked away fresh tears. She really had moved on. That sickening domestic conversation was proof enough. Maybe I was wasting my time after all. All the months of waiting, the hoping, the suffering. None of it mattered. Naomi had a new life...one without me in it. Hope died inside me then. Nothing to do now but go gracefully and put as much distance between us as I could. Suddenly my mums constant nagging to go and visit my relatives in Edinburgh was preferable to this.

"Right then" I said with a forced smile "I'm sorry to cause you all this trouble...I just thought...well, it doesn't matter what I thought, does it? There's nothing left to save, is there? I'll go now and leave you be"

I got up shakily and ran a hand through my still damp hair. My jumper was over a radiator, steaming gently as it dried. It would be uncomfortable, but over the tee, it would do me until I got to my luggage locker. With any luck I could get the next train back to Temple Meads.

Bristol then.

Naomi stood up with me and bit her bottom lip again. We stared at each other silently for a moment.

"Look Emily..." she began, but I shook my head.

"No need Naomi...really it was so stupid of me to think I could just walk back into your life and expect you to take me back after what I did. What I did ruined everything. I'm sorry. I hope you and...Sasha...make a go of it. You deserve some happiness. She's...well she's a very lucky girl"

Before Naomi could say anything else, I grabbed my jumper and ran. I heard her call something after me, but my feet carried me out onto the street and across the road before it even registered.

I never even heard the car that hit me...

 **(East Enders _dum dum dum_ ending here!) **

**OK, obvious cliffhanger, but I had to end it somewhere (for this chapter anyway)**

 **I hope you enjoyed reading it. More soon...if you want...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi guys. Bit of a break with my habit of updating my two stories alternately. I think this one needs a boost, given the way I left it. So hang on to your hats...**

 **Thanks for the reviews!**

Naomi

Standing in the grey and chilly street, it feels like the world has gone into slow motion. The screech of the taxi braking hard seems like months ago, the thump as Emily's body flew across the cold street and collided with one of those squat green BT phone exchange things a distant echo. The way her head flopped lifelessly as she settled in a heap on the wet pavement. The high pitched screaming I thought was from someone else until I drew in a huge breath and realised it was me. The stunned faces of commuters. Some stopping to gawp with shocked faces, some only favouring Emily's unconscious body with the briefest of uninterested glances before hurrying along, hoping not to get involved at any cost. All of it dreamlike, unreal.

She looked so small, so frail, her pale face reminding me how much I used to love watching her sleep, back in the days when she was mine and I was hers. Now she wasn't mine. But as people started to approach her, it didn't matter. Nothing did.

I stopped screaming long enough to run across the road, uncaring if another passing vehicle collected me too. The cab driver was out of his taxi, face white and shocked, peering at the prone figure. Passengers in the back, Japanese? Chinese? Oriental anyway...goggled through side windows curiously at the body on the opposite pavement.

My legs started shaking uncontrollably as I got to her. I dropped to her side and called her name.

"Emily...Oh God Emily...please.. _please_ be OK" I sobbed. Guilt stabbed at me like a butchers knife. My fault, my fault. Even though it wasn't...it felt like it ought to be.

Arms cradled me from behind and words entered my ears, What words I couldn't tell you. Kind words, reassuring words. Meaningless words. I struggled against the grip of this stranger. I needed to...had to.. Emily...

Then a siren, getting louder. The cab driver put his jacket under Emily's head carefully. Blood soaked into the dark fabric.

Blood...so much blood, I thought. Too much blood. She can't die...not now. Not like this. Not without...

Then a yellow and green hi viz jacket appeared next to me. A girl on a cycle, unbelievably. I didn't even know paramedics used bikes. More reassuring words.

Someone asking her name.

"Emily...her names Emily...oh please...help her" I sobbed, still struggling to get free of the passer by.

"Emily?...Emily can you hear me...?" The woman said over and over. Emily didn't answer. Just the pale face and the growing pool of blood under her head. The woman dived into her bag and started to pull medical stuff out.

The siren got closer until it filled the small side street with screeching ululations. Then doors opening, other uniformed people pushing urgently through the small crowd.

I vaguely remember one of the medics asking me if I was a relative. I said yes, because...well because. Then there was a stretcher and neck braces, tubes, straps, blankets. Emily finally being lifted onto a squeaking gurney and someone wrapping me in what looked like tin foil. Inside the ambulance, sitting with the other crew member while they hooked Emily up to a machine. The repeating tone of her heart monitor the thing I clung to. Beep, beep, beep. Alive...at least she's alive, I thought feverishly

She's going to be OK...she's _going to be_ _ **OK**_. I repeated in my head as the doors clunked shut and the ambulance started threading its way through the dissipating crowd.

Show over folks. Just another minor tragedy on a cold London working morning. A pool of blood...something for the street cleaners. Move along now. Nothing to see here...

XXX

And then the hospital. Corridors, more curious glances, antiseptic smells, institutional paint. A cubicle. Someone asking me if I was hurt (no) was I actually her sister (really?) did she have any allergies (only red wine I thought stupidly, brought her out in a rash). What blood group is she (shamefully I didn't know).

How had it come to this? 9 months apart, our lives and hearts ripped to shreds. A cold, impersonal city...a screech of brakes and now she might die. Die and never know that I still loved her. How could I not? What had been buried for months resurfaced.

I thought my heart had been shattered beyond repair when I found out about Emily and Cook. But this?... this was beyond all imagination. The thought of a world without Emily Fitch in it, even though we'd been apart for months, even though I'd convinced myself I could live without her, tore me apart. She can't die, I thought fiercely, she just _can't_. Not before I tell her...

Even as I formed the end of that sentence, the curtain opened and a serious faced guy who looked ridiculously young to be a consultant, although his name tag said he was, looked around until he spotted me huddled on a chair and come over.

"Are you here for Emily?" he said briskly.

I nodded. It hadn't been true for a while, not physically. But I'd stopped kidding myself I was ever going to be separate any other way.

"OK...bad bits first. She has head trauma, probably a fracture at the side of her skull, but a scan will tell us more. No visible sign of internal bleeding just yet, but head injuries are unpredictable. She also has a broken collar bone and possible rib damage. We've stabilised her for the scan. After that, its up to ITU for monitoring. We'll have to operate if she starts bleeding inside her skull, but if not, we'll decide on further treatment then. Otherwise just the normal cuts and bruises you get with an RTA. Do you want to see her...she's still unconscious, we're keeping her that way at the moment, but you can sit with her until she goes up to X Ray...err..?"

"Naomi" I said dully "she's my...my partner...Emily is my girlfriend...partner"

My face crumpled as the lie left my lips. What was I? I didn't know any more.

To his credit, his face never altered. Homophobia being one of the things largely absent in the big city, unlike fucking Bristol.

"Right, well, we'll need some details from you about her too, so we can access her records. Surname, date of birth...are you both from London?"

I shook my head.

"No...both from Bristol... _God_ " I remembered Katie at that point "...she has a twin sister...Katie..I need to let her know...and her parents?"

The doctor nodded.

"OK, that can be done quickly enough if you have their numbers". He gave me a sheet of paper and a cheap ball point.

"Just note down her details on here and give them to the nurse. They can let the family know, if you'd rather we..."

"No" I said quickly "Katie will be on the first train up here anyway, so I'd better break it to her gently. Is she going to be all right Doctor?...She's so precious to me..."

Its strange how that sentence came out of my mouth without artifice. I suppose because it was true. I got a momentary flash of guilt about Sasha, but it passed just as quickly. Emily _needs_ me, I thought.

Tears slipped steadily from my eyes as I looked up at him. His face remained professionally impassive.

"Like I said...Naomi...it's hard to tell at this point. But she's young, strong...despite what looks like a touch of malnutrition, is she on some sort of a diet?..."

I blanked out at that point. Malnutrition? So she hadn't been eating...looking after herself. More crushing guilt piled on top of me. Yeah, she was on a diet, the heart break type. I knew it well. More effective than any fad.

"No...no diet, we've had a bit of a rough time recently. I should have known she wasn't eating properly" I mumbled.

He shrugged.

"Well thats by the way at the moment. Emily is still very sick, so we'll treat the trauma first and worry about her ongoing health if she recovers?"

I started at that " _IF_ she recovers?'" I said sharply

He saw by my face he'd said a bit too much, so raised his hand as I started to rise.

"Sorry... _when_ she recovers. there's no reason she shouldn't Naomi. I'm just being cautious. Go in and see her...it will be a few minutes before the porters are here to take her up"

XXX

The next few hours were filled with everything and nothing. I waited in the relatives room while she had her scan, flicking through magazines I couldn't tell you the names of under torture. They eventually wheeled her out and towards the lift as I followed numbly behind. Her head was now encased in white, just the beautiful pale little face peeking out underneath. She looked like she was just sleeping. But she wasn't.

Then the ITU, all bustling nurses and shiny machines to hook her up to. I held her hand when they finished and watched as the women moved on to another critical patient. Then I handed the hastily scribbled details I knew about Emily to the smiling nurse in green scrubs.

 _Emily Jane Fitch_

 _Address...I put down my own. I didn't know hers._

 _Aged 19_

 _No allergies that I know of_

 _Blood Group unknown_

 _Contact details ...one Katie Fitch, with a phone number, the other Rob Fitch_ , at the last address I remembered in Bristol. My courage failed me when it came to naming Jenna. This would be my fault obviously, as fucking always. Cowardly, I know.

I phoned Katie. I knew the hospital would take care of her parents finding out. I cringed when I thought of what would be said about the reason Emily was hurt, but pushed that thought down quickly. Too much to do, much more important to be here for Emily.

Katie screamed for a minute when I tried to break it gently, but almost immediately, when I told her Emily wasn't dead, just injured, she was all business. Her latest boyfriend had a Ferrari, so I guessed that getting here quickly wasn't an issue. Should have known, Katie and public transport don't really gel, you know?

Lastly, I phoned my own mum. I knew once the Fitches arrived, I would revert to being a bit player in this tragedy (please don't let it be a tragedy, I begged inwardly). I needed someone on my side, limp as that reasoning was. Mum would always have my back, no matter how much of a mardy cow I am.

Then I answered the seven missed calls and twenty texts from Sasha, sitting outside the ward, mobile phones being banned inside. I still watched Emily through the window. No change...just as silent and still. Poor Sasha was beside herself, mainly for me. But I caught the note of jealousy in her voice when I told her I was staying put. Dinner and the red wine was definitely off. Another problem delayed, not solved.

But I had more important things to worry about. We both knew that.

Then I went back into the ward. Held Emily's warm hand in mine and waited...and waited.

Soon enough we'll all know how this all ends, I thought bleakly.

 **OK, short and not too sweet, but it is a filler for the next chapter. Jenna Fitch, Katie Fitch and Gina Campbell...all in close proximity...what could possibly go wrong. Oh, and Emily in an induced coma. Tricky for our Naoms.**

 **Hope you liked it!**


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